Bringing Integrity to the Written Word

HECKLED BY THE COMEDIAN
Bored senseless and determined to get out and make friends, I headed out to attend a meet-up group at a local church. I found the group in the community events section of the newspaper—it was called the Socrates Café. After a little research I decided there was a chance I would meet some intellectuals, but a bigger chance I would meet a bunch of philosophy majors who sat around spouting the thoughts of others. I wasn’t super excited about it, but in the spirit of getting out of the house, I headed downtown.
I stopped in Steubens for some mac and cheese, and was immediately greeted by two men, Max and Mike, who were sitting at the bar next to me. I was quickly drawn into a discussion about the neighborhood, gas and oil, and current events. Pleasantly surprised by the hospitality, I tarried longer than I planned, and only had a few minutes to get to the brainiac meeting. Well, I never made it to the Socrates Café.
As I was passing the Avenue Theater, just three blocks from home, there was a sandwich board on the sidewalk announcing the world premier of a local comedian, tonight, in 20 minutes, for only 15 dollars. I’d been eyeing the theater since I moved here, but had never been past it when the box office was open. I made an executive decision to spend my weekly entertainment fund all in one place, so I walked in and purchased a ticket.
It’s an intimate venue, with only a few yards separating the front row from the performer. Tonight’s performer was Dave Shirley, a long-time street performer and comedian. Smartly, I didn’t take a seat in the front row, rather I sat in the second row. A group of three took the seats in front, and the woman and I joked that they would definitely get pulled into the show or heckled.
I suddenly realized that although I’ve been to many comedy clubs, I’ve never actually been to a comedy show. There were props, singing, skits and the likes, all of which had the audience in stitches. The backdrop of the show was a large white vinyl screen, which the comedian could stand behind and make shadow shapes and other special effects. Almost immediately he started in on the group in the front row, pretending he knew them all and giving the audience the feeling that many of his friends were in the audience. I laughed at the lady in front of me, happy that I had opted for the second row.
Between skits, the comedian announced to the audience that he had a special treat for all of us. Today was his anniversary. He wanted to show us something special. We all waited eagerly for what was to come.
“Today is the five year anniversary of when the woman I loved broke my heart, stomped on it and left me. But she’s joined us tonight so I want to take this chance to share my feelings through this special skit.”
The song “Total Eclipse of the Heart” began playing through the theater, and he put on a sad puppy dog face as he announced to the crowd—“Five years ago today, that woman, right there, left me.”
And he pointed right at me.
And everyone looked right at me.
I looked around to see if he was pointing at somebody behind me, but, nope. He was pointing right at me. The next five minutes included a sappy serenade, a funky dancing routine behind the curtain, and, well, a blow-up doll. It was actually very funny, although I’m not sure all the people in the audience realized I didn’t know the man at all. The lady next to me kept looking at me, then looking away, of course in this neighborhood she could have been trying to pick up on me herself.
The show ended and my cheeks and stomach hurt from laughing so much. I chatted with the theater manager and got more information to write the show up for hellodenver.com, and he comped me two tickets to the next premier show “Santa’s Big Red Sack.”
Overall the evening turned out much better than I’d expected, and was definitely worth getting off the couch for.